What Could Have Been
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Draco wakes up with no memory of his life after an afternoon of drinking with Blaise Zabini. What is this life he's stumbled into and when will things go back to normal?
1. Prologue

It's new. It's a bit short. I promise the chapters will get longer though!

* * *

Prologue  
Once again, he was drunk.

It was Blaise Zabini's fault, he decided. No one brought a bottle of Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey to the offices of Malfoy Enterprises without intending to drink it. And Draco Malfoy drank. The bottle was nearly gone by the time his lunch hour was up.

Leaning back in his black leather chair, Draco closed his eyes and watched the lights twinkle behind his lids. "When did life get like this?" he asked, his words slurring as he spoke.

"Like what?" Blaise wondered, no more lucid than his friend.

"Boring," the blond lamented. "I wake up, I go to work, I drink, sleep, and do it all over again the next day. Life used to be fun, right?"

Blaise shrugged his tired shoulders. "I guess," he mumbled. "Until the war, at least."

Draco winced as memories of the Second Wizarding War flooded his booze-addled mind. Try as he might to forget the horrors he had seen, they appeared to him nightly in his dreams. Torture. Blood. Murder. He relived it all the moment his eyes closed. Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher who had been killed on his dining room table and devoured by Voldemort's pet snake, haunted his subconscious thoughts. Hermione Granger's screams echoed in his mind as he watched her writhe in pain under the torture of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"See the paper laterly? I mean lately," Blaise asked, rising on trembling legs toward the bar cart. Draco cracked open one eye and stared at him before shaking his head. "Seems the Granger/Weasley love saga has come to an end."

"The _Prophet_ thought it was necessary to print that?" he wondered. "Aren't there more important things to report on?"

Blaise chuckled as he poured himself another drink. "Like what? The goings on of former Death Eaters?" he asked.

Draco shrugged. "No, I like staying out of the papers," he replied. "I just wish this whole Golden Trio rubbish would go away."

"Maybe now it will," Blaise said, reclaiming his seat. Perhaps he was right. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley had parted ways back in their school days and had yet to rekindle the flame. Or perhaps they had and the injunction Harry had taken out against _The Daily Prophet_ prevented them from publishing the stories. The Boy Who Lived wanted his privacy and he got it. His friends hadn't been quite as lucky. "Dating Granger must be exhausting," he commented.

Draco sat up straight and opened his eyes. "What makes you say that?" he wondered.

The Italian smirked as he swirled the contents of his glass. "Nothing," he replied. "Just that she's never wrong, right? It's gotta be hard dating the smartest person on the planet."

"Maybe if you're as dumb as Weasley," Draco stated. Blaise laughed louder than necessary and set his drink down as a few drops spilled over the rim. "I'm just saying, I've seen the pictures. She grew up well. I'm sure there are plenty of ways to keep her mouth shut."

"Are you saying to want to date Hermione Granger?" Blaise inquired. "She's a mudblood you realize. Your father would kill you."

Draco shrugged. "To hell with him," he muttered. "Remember the last time he tried to control my life? I wound up in Azkaban for six months as I awaited trial. I'm doing things my way from here on out."

"So you're gonna ask Granger out?" Blaise asked.

He shook his head. "Please. She'd hex me before I finished asking," he replied. "Plus, she's not my type. You know I only like them for one night. Granger doesn't impress me as a one night stand kind of girl."

"Far too moral a woman for your tastes," Blaise agreed. "Although, imagine what her ex would think if she took up with you."

Draco smirked. "Because I need to give him _another_ reason to be jealous of me?" he snarked. "Look, just drop it. I'm not interested in someone like Hermione Granger. It's just the booze talking."

Blaise agreed to let it go, but couldn't help pointing out that the booze always mentioned Granger. His friend scowled, but said nothing more. He knew it was true. They both did. Her presence in the papers made her an easy topic of discussion, but Blaise couldn't remember when Draco had stopped making fun of her and turned to wondering about the person she had become. It seemed to Blaise that, without Draco realizing it, his best friend had developed a crush on his former childhood enemy.

"I thought we were dropping it," Draco stated tersely.

Rising from his seat once more, he moved to the desk and took Draco's glass. "Sorry, mate," he replied. "Consider the subject dropped."

Draco sighed in relief. "Thank you," he said.

Blaise busied himself at the drink cart, refilling the glass in his hand. What Draco didn't see was the tiny vial he pulled from an inside pocket of his dark blazer. He let a few drops of the amber liquid fall into the glass, the potion masked by the color of the firewhiskey. After setting the drink back down in front of his friend, Blaise reclaimed his seat. "We should toast," he suggested.

"To what?" Draco wondered.

Blaise held up his glass. "To...living the lives we want to lead," he stated.

"Cheers," Draco replied, raising his glass. He took a long pull on his drink, finishing off half of it before setting it back down on his desk. It didn't take long for the potion to overwhelm him. His eyes felt heavy, his mind became fuzzy, and soon he was asleep.

Blaise rose from his chair and removed the glass from the desk. "You'll thank me for this, mate," he said before leaving Draco's office. "Eventually."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
The room was too bright.

The bed was too firm.

The pressure on his chest was too much.

Opening his eyes, he expected to be greeted with a hangover. Instead, he got a mouthful of brown curls. Panic began to set in. The last thing he could remember was sharing a toast with his friend. When had he fallen asleep? Who was he with? Where was he?

The hair moved as the head on his chest turned. A familiar face glanced up at him and smiled. "Morning," Hermione Granger said softly.

He stared at her with wide eyes. "Where am I?" he asked.

Furrowing her brow, she sat up and looked down at him. "Home," she said slowly. "Why? Where do you think you are?"

Shaking his head, he scurried out of bed and stood on the opposite side of the room. "This isn't my room," he muttered. "My walls are green, not yellow. There's no carpet. The bedding is black, not white. This isn't my home. What the hell is going on? The last thing I remember is drinking at work. Did we meet up after that? Is this your house? Did we shag?"

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" she wondered. "You and Blaise were out last night, but you seemed pretty lucid when you got home. You even put Ayla to bed."

He stared at her with shocked, disbelieving eyes. "Who's Ayla?" he cried.

"Your daughter," she said tersely.

Throwing up his hands in defeat, he turned away from her toward the window. "Sure, right, okay," he mumbled. "My daughter. Must make you my wife then. And this is our house. Because this is some kind of dream. I fell asleep and now I'm dreaming. And soon I'll wake up."

Hermione climbed out of bed and slipped on a terrycloth robe. "Okay, you're starting to scare me," she said. "I'd suggest you not let the kids know that you've gone crazy. And maybe it's time you put an end to the drinking for good."

Draco watched her leave the room, the door slightly ajar. "Wait. _Kids_?" he called after her. "As in plural? As in more than the one you just mentioned?"

He followed her to the kitchen and stopped. "Yes, your son," she replied as she began to make breakfast. "Draco, what's going on? Why are you acting like this?"

Shaking his head, he leaned against the counter and watched her as she cracked half a dozen eggs into a bowl. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know why I'm here or what's going on. I've never seen this house before. The last time I saw you was on the cover of _The Daily Prophet_ after you and Weasley split up."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "That was...seven years ago," she told him. "You don't remember anything that's happened since then?"

Draco shook his head. "No, I don't."

"Did you hit your head last night?" she wondered as she wisked the egg batter.

He felt his head for any lumps or painful bruises. "I don't think I did," he replied. The sound of running footsteps above halted their conversation. "Is that them?"

Hermione nodded. "That'll be them," she confirmed.

"Um, you never told me the boy...your...our son's name," he said.

"Leo," she told him with a smile.

Draco nodded as he took in this new information. "And, um, what year is it?"

"It's 2010. Why do you look like you're going to be sick?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm 30," he said with a disgusted look on his face.

Hermione laughed as she transferred the eggs to a fry pan. "You cried on your birthday," she told him.

The kitchen door swung open. "Daddy!" a small blonde exclaimed as she ran to him. Ayla Grace Malfoy wrapped her arms around her father's legs and beamed up at him. "Up, Daddy?"

He looked to Hermione, who nodded encouragingly. But doubt clouded his mind. He had never held a child before, and he didn't intend to start now. "Um, maybe later," he said uncertainly. "I think your mum's almost done cooking breakfast."

Ayla and Leo stood beside their mother and held up their hands so their palms faced her. "Look clean to me," she observed. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll bring everything over. Daddy can pour some juice."

Draco did as he was told, then took the seat Leo pointed to. Hermione placed breakfast on the table and sat down across from Draco. "Mummy, why's Daddy still here?" Ayla asked.

Draco, too, awaited her answer. He stared at her curiously as a blush colored Hermione's cheeks. "Um, Daddy didn't have to work this morning, so he's having breakfast with us," she finally said, taking a large bite of eggs so she could answer no more questions.

"But why?" Ayla asked, turning to look at him.

He looked to Hermione for help, but she said nothing. "Um, ya know, just because," he mumbled, quickly eating his breakfast. "I think I'll go grab a shower."

The trio watched him leave in a hurry. "Mummy, what's wrong with Daddy?" Ayla asked, pushing away her plate.

"I have no idea," she muttered, pushing the plate back towards her daughter. "Now eat."

Upstairs, Draco turned on the shower, but didn't step in. There had to be a clue somewhere that would help explain what was going on. If he were dreaming, wouldn't he have awoken by now? If this were his life now, he needed to know as much as he could about it. Or find a way to turn back the last seven years of his life.

Sinking down on the foot of the bed, he let his head fall into his hands. Why could he not remember seven years of his life? What had he been drinking that afternoon that could erase so much time? So lost in thought was he that he hadn't noticed he was no longer alone.

"You're wasting water," Hermione admonished, crossing the bedroom to the bathroom. Soon the shower stopped running, and she rejoined him. "So, what's going on?"

His hands fell and he looked up. "I don't know," he replied.

Her spine straightened and she crossed her arms. "The drinking stops now," she stated. "You promised it would stop six months ago, but clearly that's not the case. You seemed so fine last night. I really thought things were better. This amnesia act is scaring the hell out of me though."

"It's not an act, Granger," he replied, getting to his feet. "I have no idea what's going on. I don't remember dating you or marrying you or having kids with you. Yesterday, I was 23 and working for my father. I was single and happy. Okay, so I wasn't happy, but at least I knew what my life was. I don't recognize any of this."

Hermione sighed as her shoulders sagged. "You realize this all sounds crazy," she said. Draco nodded, chuckling mirthlessly. "I'll help you figure out what's going on. There's just something you need to know first."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
"Divorced?" he asked in shock. "But why?"

Shaking her head, Hermione leaned back against the dresser behind her. "Separated," she amended. "Um, there were a lot of reasons, but things seemed like they were starting to get better recently."

"Reasons like what?" he wondered.

She seemed hesitant to say, but he continued to push. "The drinking mostly," she finally told him. "You would stay out all hours of the night and come home drunk. There were times you admitted to it, and others when you would lie. Then, one night after you'd missed a dinner with your parents, we got into a fight and you threw a lamp at the wall. We separated the next day, and you've been staying at your parents' house ever since. Well, until last night."

He had so many questions, and he knew he needed answers to them. But the first thing he said was, "I'm sorry."

"I know," she replied.

"How long?" he wondered. "Do the kids know? Why was I here last night? Did I hurt you?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Six months," she told him. "It was your idea, you know. After that night, you said you didn't think you should live here anymore because you were afraid of hurting the kids. Ayla knows, but Leo doesn't understand."

"You said things were getting better though," he replied.

Hermione nodded. They had been progressing toward better. He stopped drinking on weeknights, he showed up for family dinners, he visited Ayla and Leo daily. But he had given no hints that he wanted to move back in.

Until last night.

"We sort of...kind of...slept together last night," she said sheepishly. He had come over after dinner, surprisingly sober despite a couple of drinks with Blaise. Leo was already in bed, but Ayla still laid on the sofa with her mother. Draco had offered to put her to bed, which in turn had put a smile on the little girl's face. When he came back downstairs to the living room, Hermione had kissed him.

"And then I wake up and tell you I don't remember any of it," he concluded. "So, that's why Ayla asked what I was doing here this morning?"

She nodded. "You're not usually here in the morning," she shared. "Even when you lived here, you were never home for breakfast."

Glancing behind him to the clock on the nightstand, his eyes widened. "Shouldn't I be at work now?" he asked in a panic, getting to his feet to find something clean to wear.

As he passed her, she grabbed his arm to stop him. "You took a leave of absence about a month ago," she informed him. "The kids don't know about that part though."

Draco was sure he didn't need her to tell him why. Moving back to the bed, he sat down and resumed his earlier posture. Beside him, the mattress dipped and a warm hand touched his back. "The last thing I remember is sitting in my office, getting drunk with Blaise, and toasting to the lives we wanted," he told her. "What you just told me...that's not the life I want to lead. Drunk, abusive. Do I sleep around too? Merlin, I think I became my father."

"As far as I know, you haven't slept with anyone else," she said softly, hoping to ease at least one concern. "And the kids aren't afraid of you. Leo only talks to you. You saw Ay's reaction to seeing you this morning. The two of them love you so much. You're not your father, Draco."

He bit his lower lip as his emotions flooded through him. "You said we fought because of my parents. Do they get along with you?" he asked.

"They do now," she replied. "It wasn't until I had Ayla that they started to like me. And it wasn't until Leo that your father started telling people that I was a member of the family. You should see him with the kids. He's happier when they're around."

"That's good, I guess," he muttered. "At least he's nice to his grandkids."

Hermione nodded, then rose from the bed. "I should get the kids ready for the day," she said uncertainly. "I planned to take them to the park. Maybe you'd like to come?"

"Um, there's something I have to do first," he replied. "Can I help though? I mean, I have no idea what I'm doing, but can I anyway?"

She smiled and crossed to the door. "Sure, come on," she replied. "You take the boy, I'll take the girl. Leo likes you better anyway."

Draco smirked as she led him to their son's room. "Jealous?" he asked.

Hermione stopped walking and turned to face him. "You always say that," she told him.

Smiling, he entered Leo's room and closed the door behind himself. His heart began to race as he realized he had no idea what to do. Leo sat on his small bed and looked up at him with no emotion on his face. He had inherited his mother's dark hair and eyes, but the angles of his face were all Draco. Ayla was the opposite. Blonde hair and gray eyes, but she had Hermione's smile and soft features.

"Okay, buddy, what do I do first?" he asked.

The little boy cocked his head to the side. "Where Mummy?" he asked.

"Helping your sister," he replied, moving to the dresser. "So, um, we need pants and a shirt and socks?" Leo nodded, but made no attempt to help him find what he needed. After opening all of the dresser drawers, Draco finally found an outfit he thought suitable enough for a day outside.

When he laid it on the bed, Leo shook his head. "No," he said defiantly.

"Why?" Draco asked.

Leo tossed the blue polo shirt onto the floor. "No," he said again, crossing his arms over his chest.

Draco bent down to retrieve the shirt, and soon found the pants beside it. Glancing up, he eyed the toddler and asked, "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Want Mama," the little boy demanded.

Draco picked up the clothes and placed them back on the bed. "Your mother is busy with your sister," he stated. "You're stuck with me, kiddo."

Sliding off of the bed, Leo ran to the door, threw it open, and made his way across the hall to Ayla's room. Without a word, he wrapped his arms tightly around his shocked mother's leg. Ayla, who had just finished dressing, turned to look at her father as he entered her room. Draco ignored the questioning raise of her eyebrows; a raise so similar to Hermione's.

"What's going on?" Hermione inquired, reaching down to pick up the pajama-clad boy.

"I thought you said he liked me," Draco groused.

Hermione groaned. "Help her with her shoes," she instructed. "I'll get him dressed."

When they were in the safety of the toddler's bedroom, Hermione managed to get him dressed with no fuss. It wasn't until they were done and ready to leave that he stopped her from opening the door. Leo wore a worried expression as he looked his mother in the eye. "That's not Daddy," he told her.


	4. Chapter 3

It's a bit on the long side, but hopefully no one minds! Also, my doctor's appointment went well.

* * *

Chapter 3  
With a racing heart, Draco approached the Zabini mansion. Like his own family home, Blaise's was dark enough to scare the living daylights out of any who approached. But his friend had answers, answers he so desperately needed. His fear of large, ancient mansions would have to wait. He approached the door and knocked, praying that Blaise would be home.

It seemed luck was finally on his side.

"How are you not hungover?" Blaise asked in lieu of a proper greeting.

Draco shrugged and let himself in. "I don't think I drank that much last night," he replied. "Hermione said I didn't seem drunk when I got home."

Blaise smirked. "So you and the wife have made up then?" he inquired, taking a seat on the sofa.

Taking in his friend's boxer-clad appearance, Draco asked, "Could you please put some pants on?"

Rolling his eyes, Blaise summoned a pair of jeans and slipped them on. "Pardon the smell," he said. "Elfie's been a bit behind on the wash. So, what's going on then?"

Sitting down, Draco exhaled a deep breath. "Do you remember getting drunk in my office?" he asked. "Because that's the last thing I remember, and Hermione said that had to be seven years ago."

Dark brows furrowed. "Maybe you _are_ hungover, mate," he replied. "We went out last night and you had maybe two drinks. You don't even work for your father anymore. There's no way we...well, you got drunk there. Hermione's right - you were completely sober when you left last night. Must have been all that water you were drinking. Might consider trying that myself one day."

Running a frustrated hand through his blond locks, Draco stared at his best friend. "I'm not talking about last night," he stated. "I'm talking about something that supposedly happened seven years ago. It just feels like yesterday to me."

Blaise shrugged and moved to the bar cart to pour himself a drink. He offered one to Draco, but he refused. "We used to drink in your office all the time," Blaise recalled. "And then you got married, and we started doing it less and less. It didn't stop, it just became less frequent. We'd still go out after work to drink though. Why are you acting like you don't remember any of this? I didn't think _sobriety_ killed your brain cells."

"It isn't an act," Draco tried to explain. "It's not amnesia. I don't know what it is. All I know is I woke up next to Hermione Granger this morning, found out I have two kids, and I'm thirty. Oh, and apparently, the woman I thought was my wife might soon be my ex-wife."

With a chuckle, Blaise replied, "So much for my toast."

Blond brows knit together. There was one toast he remembered clearly, but he needed to know if it was the same one his friend had mentioned. "To living the lives we want?" he asked.

Blaise nodded. "Glad you remember my toast from your wedding," he replied. "I thought for sure you were too distracted by Hermione to notice anything around you. All you did was stare at her that night. Can't say I blame you. She is pretty nice to look at."

An overwhelming wave of angry jealousy washed over him. "Never speak of her that way again," he said through clenched teeth. "I may not remember much, but she's still my wife."

Holding up his hands as a show of surrender, Blaise asked, "Why did you really come here?"

Sighing, Draco sat down. "You're the last person I can remember seeing," he explained. "I was hoping you could tell me what happened."

"Sorry mate," Blaise replied. "I don't know."

After his discouraging conversation with Blaise, Draco made his way to the park closest to their home. He found Hermione on a bench near a large playground, smiling and waving as Ayla and Leo played on the jungle gym. When he sat down, she told him what Leo had said before they left.

"That's what I've told you," Draco said in a harsh whisper. "I'm not the me you think I am. A two year old can see it. Why not you?"

"Why would he say that though?" she wondered in utter awe. "Why would he think you're not you? It's just a bit of memory loss, after all."

He turned his attention to the kids. "It's not memory loss," he said, trying to find the best way to describe what had happened that day in his office. "It's like...if someone slipped a Time Turner around your neck and wound it so you'd be in a different time. You have no memories of what happened between then and now. It's terrifying, Granger. I keep expecting to wake up. I keep wondering how long this will last."

"This is your life, Draco," she said softly. "It ends when you stop breathing. And I don't want that to happen any time soon."

"You said you'd help me figure this out," he muttered.

She touched his shoulder, half expecting him to slap her hand away. "I will," she promised. "It's just a lot for me to wrap my mind around."

Draco nodded. "Yeah, tell me about it," he mumbled.

Hermione shifted closer and wrapped her arm around his. "It'll get better," she said, resting her head against his shoulder.

Tentatively, he touched her hand, feeling the cool metal of her wedding band. Glancing down, he smiled. It was his grandmother's engagement ring on her finger; a simple platinum band with a diamond in the center and a small cluster of diamonds on either side. She had given it to him on her deathbed, and made him promise to give it to the love of his life. He had been seven when she passed away, but he kept it safe all those years.

"It looks good on you," he said when she caught him staring.

"Ginny said I should take it off, but I couldn't bring myself to do it," she confessed. "It felt like I was admitting that we were over."

He turned his head to watch the kids again. "And you didn't want it to be," he guessed. He could feel her nod her head against his arm. "But why? I threw a lamp at you. I'd leave me."

"Well, when you put it that way, maybe I should have," she replied. "Honestly, I know we had our problems, but I knew you'd never hurt me. You didn't aim anywhere near me when you tossed that lamp. There's no excusing what you did, but I know you weren't trying to injure me. It scared me though."

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

With a sigh, she pulled away as Ayla ran to them. "I know you are," she murmured.

"I've said it a lot?" he asked as the little girl stopped in front of him.

"Yeah, but I think you've only recently started to mean it," she replied. Then she turned her attention to their little girl. "What's the matter, baby? Your knee is bleeding."

Ayla sighed dramatically and placed her dirty palms on Draco's knees. "I falled down, Daddy," she lamented. "It hurts."

Hermione reached for her, but Draco beat her to it as he hoisted her onto his lap. "Can I do magic here?" he whispered. Hermione nodded and watched as he searched for his wand. But he came up short. Smiling, she handed him hers and watched him cast a spell to heal Ayla's cut knee. "Okay, now test it out. Does it still work? Think you can run back to your brother?"

She flexed her leg and smiled. "Looks good, Daddy," she proclaimed, hopping off of his lap. They chuckled as she ran back to the playground.

"I think I'm gonna need one of these," he said, handing over her wand. They sat in silence as they watched their children play. From time to time, they would acknowledge their parents; Ayla with a smile and a wave, and Leo with an uncertain stare. "I don't get it," he finally said.

"What? Leo?" she asked, noticing the way he watched his father. "Little kids are perceptive, particularly magical kids. They sense things that we can't."

"Ayla seems to have no problem with me," he groused.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, maybe she doesn't want to admit it," she suggested. "She's always been your little princess, and not being around as much as you used to be hurt her, I think. She has you back now. I don't think she cares what incarnation it is."

Attention still trained on the kids, he reached for her hand. "What about you?" he wondered.

"I'm still processing," she replied.

He glanced at her briefly from the corner of his eye. The years had been kind to her. Her chestnut brown curls had been tamed and her eyes were still aglow with the passion he had seen in them during their school days. Aside from the tiny crinkle of laugh lines around them, she still looked exactly the same.

"It's funny," he said, looking down at their hands. "The last thing I remember talking to Blaise about is you. We were wondering if it would be tiring to date you. I didn't think you'd ever say yes if I did ask you out."

She shrugged. "Well, it took some convincing...and a rather large box of chocolates, but I finally said yes," she replied.

"Did you say yes because you liked me or because I pestered you?" he asked.

Hermione smiled. "A bit of both," she replied. "It was quite flattering really."

"I went to see Blaise," he confessed. Her brows rose incredulously. "I didn't drink, I swear. I was hoping he could help me."

"And did he?" she asked.

Draco shook his head. "No."


	5. Chapter 4

Don't you love it when you go to the pharmacy and your copay decreases by more than half? It's my new favorite thing.

* * *

Chapter 4  
Ginny Potter had never been a fan of Draco Malfoy. And she hid that fact from no one, including him. When news of their separation reached her, she had actually rejoiced and commended her friend for finally coming to her senses. Her excitement, it seemed, was short lived.

"You're back together?" she demanded in a harsh whisper as Leo napped on Hermione's lap.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know," she replied. "We have a long way to go before that happens. Plus his recent behavior has thrown something of a wrench in things."

There was a surprised look on her friend's face. "What recent behavior?" Ginny inquired.

Shrugging her shoulders, Hermione looked down at her sleeping son. "He's just been acting strange lately," she said as if it were nothing. "Maybe it's the sobriety."

"Funny, Harry said he saw Malfoy with Zabini at the Leaky Cauldron the other night," Ginny mused. "Maybe it was just butterbeer though."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "That's enough, Ginny," she said quietly. "I'm sorry things didn't work between Ron and me, but it's been seven years. I think it's about time you let it go."

"But why?" the redhead protested. "He's single. You're single. It's fate's way of telling you that you're supposed to be together. Draco Malfoy was just a phase that went on for too long. By the way, you haven't mentioned where he is."

Hermione eased herself to her feet, careful not to wake the sleeping boy in her arms. "Draco's still my husband," she stated. "And he will remain my husband until..._if_ a divorce is finalized. Ron and I were finished a long time ago. If you can't accept that, then I don't know what else to tell you. Excuse me while I go put my son to bed."

Ginny remained where Hermione left her, stewing in her own anger, when the front door opened. "Quiet, your mum said Leo naps at this hour," Draco said with a chuckle as Ayla giggled loudly.

"But Daddy, you're silly," she argued.

"Yeah, but we have to be quiet silly so we don't wake your brother," he replied, carrying her further into the house. He stopped abruptly when he reached the living room. "Weasley?"

Ayla stilled in his arms as she looked between the two adults. ""Miss Ginny looks mad," she whispered in his ear. Nodding in agreement, he set her down on her feet and asked her to find her mother.

Now alone with a woman he was sure hated him, a thick tension descended on the room. He remained near the entryway, deciding that leaving would be rude. "Um, Hermione knows you're here, right?" he asked, at a loss for more to say.

Ginny nodded tersely, and the silence continued. That is, until she decided she could no longer hold her tongue. "I see what you're trying to do," she said to him. His mouth opened in surprise by her sudden outburst. "You've spent your entire marriage to Hermione being a jerk. Blamed it on the drinking. She's lost sight of who you were when we were at school because you managed to be charming a few times. So, she throws you out and you decide to come around everyday, trying to win her back. This little act of yours won't work."

Before he could reply, Hermione appeared by his side. "That's _enough_," she stated angrily. "You will not come into my home and insult my family. You don't like the choices I've made? That's just too damn bad, Ginny. If you can't accept that I'm happy, then you know where the door is."

Ginny rose from her seat, and Draco expected a fight. The temperamental redhead crossed the room silently and stopped in front of them. "Fine, but don't come crying to us when his nice act wears off."

When she was gone, Draco sat down. "I shouldn't have tried talking to her," he muttered.

Hermione sighed tiredly. "It's not your fault," she assured him. "I asked you to take Ayla out today because I knew she was coming over. She wants to throw a party for Harry's birthday, and enlisted my help."

"Should I expect an invitation?" he asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

"I'm pretty sure _I'm_ not getting one after this," she replied.

He looked down at his lap guiltily. "Did I just ruin your friendship with them?"

She took a seat beside him and shook her head. "Things between Ginny and I have been strained for a while now," she told him. "She hated me when we were school because I was friends with Harry. When Ron and I broke up, she swore I'd never find anyone as good as him. And she's been hellbent on pointing out your every flaw to me since we started dating. I just couldn't take it anymore."

"I appreciate you sticking up for me," he replied. "I know I haven't given you much of a reason to do it."

"You're still my husband, Draco. Even if you don't remember it," she said softly, reaching for his hand that laid between them. "I don't know what happened to you. I don't know if there's anything we can really do to fix it either."

Draco smirked. "Is this supposed to be a pep talk?" he wondered.

Shaking her head, Hermione laughed softly. "No, it isn't," she realized. "Sorry about that. Shall I try again?"

"No, it's okay," he replied with a laugh. "I guess there's nothing really positive about this situation."

"That's not true," she murmured. "It's only been a few days, but you're different. A good different. Closer to the way you were when we started dating. I only wish you could remember that."

They sat in silence; Hermione contemplating the way things used to be and Draco trying to figure out how to get back there. "What about a pensieve?" he suggested. "Maybe if I saw your memories, I'd remember something."

"Memories are subjective though," she explained, reminding him of the girl he knew from Hogwarts. "I might not have remembered things the way you did."

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "I don't remember anything," he pointed out. There was no denying that he made a valid point. "I just want to have some idea of what's happened in the last seven years."

"I thought you said this wasn't memory loss," she replied.

"I thought you said you didn't know what this was," he retorted.

Quirking an amused eyebrow, she got to her feet. "Okay, you can look at my memories," she conceded. "But don't get mad at me if you see something you don't like."


	6. Chapter 5

Happy Friday before a three day weekend! What does one wear to a bridal shower? And is it wrong that I'm excited that my mom hasn't pitched a fit that I'm skipping out on family to spend the weekend at my friend's place? I'm in my late 20's, I really shouldn't get so worked up over her reaction to these things.

* * *

Chapter 5  
He stared into the basin as wisps of cloudy white memories swirled around. Though he had seen pensieves before, never had he used one. The thought of delving into Hermione's memories made him nervous, and he almost decided not to go through with it. Perhaps some of her inquisitiveness had rubbed off on him. His desire for answers had begun to outweigh his fear. With a deep breath, he lowered his head to the pensieve and felt himself being pulled into the vast array of memories.

_"Why am I doing this?" Hermione asked as she examined herself in the full length mirror attached to her closet door. She was dressed in a knee length, crimson colored pencil skirt and a black sweater. Her damp curls hung to her shoulders, a few strands sticking to her unmade up cheeks. "This is crazy. It's Malfoy, for crying out loud. Why did I agree to this?"_

_But she continued to get ready. With a wave of her wand, her locks were dried and pulled back into a low ponytail. She coated her cheeks in a thin layer of foundation and blush, then added a touch of mascara to her lashes and a dab of gloss to her lips. Just as she exited the bathroom, there was a knock at the door. Barefoot, she hurried to the living room and opened the door. "Just one minute," she said, before turning back to the hallway that led to her bedroom. "I just have to find my shoes."_

_Draco was waiting when she returned with a pair of black flats in hand. He wore an amused smile as he greeted her. "You look nice," he commented. "Flats seem like a good choice."_

_"What are we doing, Malfoy?" she asked. "Why won't you tell me what the plan is for tonight? Are we doing a lot of walking? Are you planning to bury me in a ditch somewhere? What?"_

_He chuckled softly and shook his head. "No, there will be no ditches or holes or any scenario in which you're buried, dead or alive," he assured her. "I just...you seem like someone who likes to be comfortable. I'd hate for you to change that because you're going out with me."_

_"Oh," she replied softly. "So, I'll make it home in one piece tonight?"_

_"Well, unless I splinch you when we Apparate," he conceded. "But I promise I've gotten really good at side-along Apparition. You'll be safe."_

_A hesitant smile pulled at her lips as she slipped on her shoes. He held out a hand to her when she was ready, and soon they were gone._

He emerged from the memory to find Hermione standing in the doorway. "Our first date," he informed her.

Hermione grinned. "You were so nervous that you dropped a knife in my lap," she recalled. "I've still got a scar on the back of my hand from where it cut me."

He blushed, chagrined by what he thought to be unusual behavior. "How many times did I ask before you said yes?" he wondered.

"Seven," she told him. "Then that box of chocolates happened, and the rest is history. Um, do you plan on looking at anymore? The kids need some new shoes, and I was hoping to have a bit of reinforcement."

He looked at the vials all neatly lined up in chronological order. Only one memory had been viewed, and there were a lot left to get through. "Yeah, sure," he said, wanting to be the man he'd been when they first started dating. Though he couldn't remember it, he was sure that man was more agreeable. "The memories can wait, right?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'll get the kids ready. We'll meet you downstairs?"

He nodded as he stared longingly at the memories. They could wait, he assured himself. They _had_ to wait. Family needed to come first; a lesson never learned from his own parents. As he readied himself for a day out, he wondered if his attitude toward family had been different before he suddenly appeared in Hermione's bed. He feared that perhaps he had put them second, possibly third, to work and drinking.

"Daddy, can I have pink shoes?" Ayla inquired as she bounded down the stairs. "I don't have pink shoes, and I really really want them. Please?"

He met her at the bottom of the stairs and hoisted her into his arms. "I thought I saw pink trainers on your little feet when we went to the park," he commented.

Ayla wound her arms around his neck and rolled her gray eyes. "Those are different, Daddy," she explained. "Those are trainers. _Boys_ wear trainers, and they're icky. I want pretty shoes like Mummy."

"Boys are icky," he agreed. "And I want you to remember that in ten years."

Hermione and Leo came down soon after. "What's that she's supposed to remember?" Hermione inquired.

Draco smiled. "Nothing, it's between us," he told her. "So, where to?"

Hermione picked up Leo. "I'm not telling you," she retorted. "It's between the three of us."

Turning on her heel, she walked to the fireplace with Draco on her heels. "You're five," he stated. "I hope you know that. I'm married to a five year old."

She grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the hearth. "I'm older than you," she pointed out before calling out her destination.

"Touche," he muttered, following her lead. He stepped into The Leaky Cauldron and followed Hermione to the street. "We're in muggle London," he observed.

"We come here all the time, Daddy," Ayla told him, brows furrowed in confusion. "Did you forget, silly?"

He glanced at Hermione, who nodded her confirmation. "I must have," he consented. "Lucky I have you to remind me."

The little girl shrugged nonchalantly and smiled. "You're welcome."

Hermione laughed as she led them to the nearest shoe store. Despite having his arms full with Ayla, Draco held the door and allowed his wife to enter first. She placed Leo on his feet and began to show him his options. Draco set Ayla down and she immediately dragged him to the girls' shoe section.

"These ones, Daddy," she declared, handing him a pale pink ballet flat covered in glitter.

He took the shoe from her and shrugged. "That was easy," he murmured. They returned to Hermione, shoes in hand, and watched her struggle to convince Leo to pick a pair of trainers.

"How is she done already?" Hermione asked, frustration thick in her voice. "Leo's usually the easy one. Why do you think I picked him?"

"Tell Mummy thanks," he said to Ayla. "It's not my fault she knew what she wanted."

He handed the box to his wife and watched as she scrutinized the shoes. "You made sure she tried them on?" she asked. "She didn't just tell you these were her size?"

"Yes, she tried them on," Draco replied with a roll of his eyes. "It was a struggle to get her to take them off."

Hermione returned the box to him. "I'm sorry," she said. "First it was the outfit this morning, then the struggle to get him to leave the house, and now it's shoes. I'm just losing my patience a bit."

Draco knelt down beside Leo and smiled. "I like these," he said, holding up a pair of white shoes with green accents. "And I think they light up when you walk. That's pretty cool."

Without taking his eyes off of Draco, the little boy took one shoe from his father. "You look like Daddy," he said thoughtfully.

"That's because I am your daddy, buddy," Draco told him. Leo shook his head, but said nothing more.

"Ready to go?" Hermione asked nervously.

Draco got to his feet and picked up Ayla once more. Yeah, let's go."


	7. Chapter 6

The fire alarms went off this morning at work. My building is right by the Hudson River, and it was 12 degrees. I still have not warmed up.

* * *

Chapter 6  
Draco carefully studied the marked vials and selected the one he wanted to view next. It made little sense to view them out of order, but Leo had been on his mind since they returned from muggle London. After shoe shopping, they had stopped at a small cafe for lunch. All the while, Leo watched him intently without uttering a word. Hermione said that they had a wonderful relationship before, and he wanted to see her memories of that. He removed the vial labeled "Leo's 2nd Birthday" and emptied it into the pensieve. Leaning in, he was soon enveloped by her memory.

_The living room was decorated with blue and green balloons and streamers. Ayla set out cups and napkins on the coffee table while Hermione lined up silver platters full of hors d'oeuvres. The little girl eyed a tray of pigs in a blanket and looked like she was coming up with a plan to steal one without her mother noticing._

_"One," Hermione told her, smiling at her daughter's not so clever attempts at being sneaky. Triumphantly, Ayla selected one snack from the tray and ate slowly. "Now, go ask Gigi for the bowls of crisps. And yes, you may have one."_

_Ayla ran to the kitchen as Hermione continued her last minute party preparations. As she finished repinning the streamers attached to the window valance, Leo appeared. He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand as he walked to her. "Hi, birthday boy," she greeted him. "Did you have a good nap?"_

_He wrapped his arms around her legs, nodded, and rested his head near her knee. His eyes closed briefly, but reopened as the sound of footsteps could be heard. A shy smile touched his lips for the briefest of seconds as his grandmother came into view. Joining them, Narcissa Malfoy ran her fingers through her grandson's hair. "What else can I do to help?" she asked. "Ayla mentioned something about a party dress?"_

_"Oh, that would be great," Hermione replied with a relieved sigh. "You don't mind helping her get dressed? I still have to get him dressed, and people are supposed to arrive soon. There aren't too many guests, but if I know Pansy, she'll be here fifteen minutes early. I thought it was fashionable to be late."_

_Narcissa chuckled. "She loves your children," she said. "It's good to see that she's matured."_

_"Yeah, if only she wouldn't bring Ayla a change of clothes and insist that she be redressed," the younger witch muttered. "She buys all of Ayla's dresses, by the way. So it's not like she's insulting the things I pick out."_

_"Just wait, she'll have children of her own one day, and you can do the same thing to them," Narcissa said with a devious smile. "Speaking of children, where did that little imp of a granddaughter run off to?"_

_Hermione bent down to pick up Leo. "Probably heard party dress and ran to her room to get into it," she replied. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's on backwards and she's attempting to button it up all by herself."_

_Moving toward the stairs, Narcissa's happy expression faded. "What time is...you know who coming?" she asked._

_"I don't know that he is."_

The memory ended, and Draco was back in the study. Dashing from the room, he found Hermione in the living room with a basket of laundry on the coffee table. She glanced up and noticed just how upset he looked. "What did you see?" she asked.

He told her the memory he had just finished viewing. "Did I ever show up?" he wondered, seeming to grow more agitated the longer she hesitated to answer him. "Please, Hermione. Just answer the question."

"I told you that you might not like some of the things you saw," she stated calmly, returning to the clothes that needed to be folded. "You did show up. Drunk and about two hours late. Your father spotted you as you came in, and he quickly escorted you back out. I didn't know about it until after everyone had left."

He looked sick as he took a seat in the chair across from her. Head in hands, he asked, "When?"

"About a week after we separated," she replied.

"God, Hermione, I'm so sorry," he murmured. "Um, did Leo...did he realize it?"

She nodded, and with the basket now empty, she gathered up her piles to put away. "Do you remember when I told you he would only speak to you?" she asked. "Well, with you not around, he didn't speak to anyone. He spent most of the party sitting on your mother's lap. No one could get him to say a word. He wanted you, and only you."

"And I wasn't there," he muttered.

Hermione ascended the stairs, stopping first in Leo's room to put away his clean clothing, then moving on to Ayla's room. The master bedroom was her final destination. He watched as she put away his clothes before tending to her own. "He didn't speak until you started coming around again," she informed him. "Everything about him changed when you came back. He's so much like you. So good at hiding his emotions and closing people out. He seemed happier, he was more talkative, he acted the way a two and a half year old should act. And then he decided you're not you, and that all came undone."

Draco took a seat at the foot of the bed. "A part of me is sorry I looked at that memory," he admitted. "I feel guilty and ashamed when you tell me these things. And then I feel even worse because I did them, but I don't remember doing them."

She moved past him, touching his cheek gently as she walked to the bedside table where she kept her socks and delicates. "I thought you said you weren't from our time," she said. "If that's true, then I guess you have nothing to feel guilty about."

"Yeah, but that doesn't stop me from feeling like this," he replied.

Hermione sighed and took a seat beside him. "It's understandable that you feel that way," she murmured. "Maybe you should stop looking at the memories. Just...be here. I'll answer whatever questions you have."

"What about Leo?" he wondered. "I mean, doesn't it break your heart that a two year old is so closed off? He doesn't speak. He stares at me all the time like he's scrutinizing me. It's unsettling."

"Since he learned how to talk, he's said only a handful of words to me," she pointed out. "Most of them have been no or him pleading for you instead. It wasn't just heartbreaking, Draco. I felt like a failure because somehow, something I must have done, made him hate me."

He reached for her hand and held it tightly. "I don't think he hates you," he assured her. "I think he just inherited one too many of the Malfoy traits."

Hermione chuckled. "Now _that_ is something you should be apologizing for," she teased. He laughed right along with her, and removed his hand from hers to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "At least Ayla is like me."

"Merlin, those books," he said, wide-eyed. "This house ever catches fire, her room is going up first. Maybe we should move them into the study. Give her a space of her own in there. Think she might like that?"

"She'd love that," Hermione replied with a nod of her head. "Maybe we should set up something like that for Leo? He'll be learning to read too."

Draco shook his head. "You can pitch that one to him," he stated. "The last time I offered an opinion, he looked like he was ready to throw a shoe at my head. That kid hates me."

Placing her head on his shoulder, she stared down at his free hand and the wedding ring he wore once again. "Give it time," she murmured. "He'll see that you're still his dad and that you love him."


	8. Chapter 7

Happy Friday! Next week is supposed to be warmer, and I can't wait for that. I'm so over the Joey wearing all of Chandler's clothes look that I've had going on this week.

* * *

Chapter 7  
Leo was always the first to rise in the morning. Quietly, he made his way downstairs, careful not to wake anyone. He made himself comfortable on the living room sofa, his head on a throw pillow and his blanket in hand, and turned on the television. He had a good fifteen minutes to himself as he watched cartoons before he was interrupted.

An exhausted looking Draco stumbled down the stairs and stopped at the living room entrance, surprised to find anyone else awake so early. "Morning," he said softly. Thumb in his mouth, Leo looked up briefly before focusing on the television once more. "What are we watching?" he asked, taking a seat near the little boy's feet.

"Somefin silly," Leo told him as he sat up and removed his thumb from his mouth.

"Do you always get up early on a Saturday to watch something silly while everyone else sleeps?" Draco asked.

The little boy nodded. "Sometimes Daddy does too," he replied.

Picking up the remote, Draco lowered the volume. "Why do you think I'm not your dad?" he asked.

Turning the volume up, Leo replied, "My daddy's old. And him was mean sometimes."

Blond brows rose, and he wasn't sure if he should be insulted. "Well, thirty isn't that old," he remarked. "Compared to two, though, it might be. Do I look different?"

"Your eyes don't go wrinkly," Leo explained, pointing to the corner of his eye. "You don't smell funny either."

The alcohol, Draco determined. He would have to ask Hermione about how old he looked. To him, he still looked like the twenty-three year old Draco who was single and well on his way to becoming an alcoholic. But she had never mentioned that he might not look like himself. Or the him he looked like at twenty-three.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, he teased, "So you think your daddy is old and mean and stinky?" Leo's sweet giggle filled the air, increasing as Draco tickled him. "Shh, you're gonna wake Mummy. Quit laughing so loud."

But the more his fingers worked the little boy's sides, the louder he grew. "No, Daddy. No more," Leo pleaded despite his laughter. Draco stopped then; partly because his son had just called him Daddy, but also because of the disgruntled person who cleared her throat.

"Morning," Hermione greeted them. "It's getting a bit loud down here."

"Sorry," Draco mumbled. "Did we wake you?"

She nodded. "It's fine though. Glad to see the two of you having some fun," she replied with a smile. "Just don't wake up Ayla. She may be sweet and pleasant and loving, but she's a demon if you disturb her beauty sleep."

He rose from the sofa and crossed the room to stand before her. "I'm sorry we woke you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "How about we make breakfast? You just sit and watch something silly."

She peered around him to see her son. "What's going on there?" she inquired.

Draco beamed. "He called me Daddy," he told her in a whisper. "I mean, I don't think he realized it, but it's something, right?"

"Definitely," she agreed. "And I want pancakes."

Chuckling, he walked back to the sofa and picked Leo up. "Today, we men make breakfast," he declared. "You're tall enough to do all the flipping, right?"

Leo looked down at himself in his father's arms. "No," he said timidly. "Mama says the stove is for big people."

"That's right," Draco replied as he carried him to the kitchen. He set him down on the counter and moved about the kitchen as he gathered the necessary ingredients. "Let's see, what can you do? I bet you can stir. I'll put the stuff in the bowl and you stir it around?"

Leo nodded and watched as Draco prepared the batter. He handed him a plastic spoon and showed him what he needed to do, smiling from ear to ear when Leo did it on his own. Draco moved to the stove to heat the griddle. "Daddy, I spilled," Leo announced.

Draco turned to see how much of a mess the little boy had made. "No problem," he said. Pulling out a towel, he wiped the small spot of batter that had landed on Leo's shirt. "All gone. And I think you're doing a great job. Look - no lumps."

He took the batter and began to dole out spoonfuls of it on the griddle. Hermione came in and picked up Leo, eyeing Draco as she did so. "Can I help with anything?" she asked.

"No," Leo told her. "Brefast in bed, Daddy?"

Draco turned away from the stove to face them. "I think breakfast in bed sounds like a great idea, buddy," he agreed. "Hermione, back to bed."

She put Leo down and told him to meet her in her bed. "I just have to talk to Daddy for a minute. I'll be right there," she promised. When they were alone, she turned to him. "He called you Daddy again."

"Yeah, that was the third time," he told her. He told her about the conversation they had shared before she awoke. "I can't say I'm not confused. He tells me I used to look older. He spent the last week and a half proclaiming that I'm not his father. And now he's calling me Daddy like it's perfectly normal."

Hermione shrugged as she removed plates and silverware. "It could have something to do with you doing things with him, things you used to do before," she suggested. "The waking up early, making breakfast, tucking him in at night even. Those were his favorite times with you, and now he has them back."

"I like hearing him saying it," he confessed, moving the finished pancakes to the plates she had set out. "I like hearing Ayla call me that too."

"It's a good feeling," Hermione agreed. "I still remember the first time she said it. You were feeding her breakfast, and she had cereal all over her face. And she just looked up at you with this huge smile on her face, and she said Daddy. It was her first word."

Shutting off the stove, he picked up the tray and tried to hide his disappointment at another unknown memory. "Do you think she's up yet?" he asked.

Hermione promised to check while he took breakfast to the master bedroom. Leo was waiting, reclining against the pillows with the fluffy comforter pulled up to his waist. He looked even smaller in the large bed. His eyes followed Draco's every move as he set up the breakfast tray and handed him a cup of juice. Leo took a long gulp and handed the lidded cup back to him.

"Can you be my daddy now?" he asked.

Draco grinned and joined him on the bed. "I'd love that," he replied.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
"It's just your parents," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes as she checked on the roast.

"And as I recall, they hated anyone of less than pure blood," he retorted.

She shut the oven door and turned to face him. "And I told you that they're not like that anymore," she replied, resting her hand on his bicep. "Look, the kids will keep them distracted for most of the evening anyhow. They'll leave before we put Ayla and Leo to bed. You'll hardly have to talk to them at all."

"But what if I do, and I don't know what to say?" he wondered nervously. "Or what if they see that something is off? Do they think we're back together? I was living with them before, and I haven't been back since I woke up here that morning."

Not sure where to begin, she hugged him instead. "Just relax," she told him. "I told them we decided to work on our marriage, and things have been so much better between us. They seemed happy. We can let them think that, even if it's just one night."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. "I think we work," he murmured.

She smiled sadly as she pulled away. "Yeah, but you're not you," she replied. "You said so yourself. Sometimes it feels like I'm cheating on you."

"Yeah, with me," he added, reaching for her.

She allowed him to hold her once more. "You really are like the Draco I knew when we started dating," she said, pressing her cheek to his chest. "I swear I was in love after the first date. You were nothing like the boy I went to school with. You gave me your jacket because I was cold even though I could tell that you were freezing. But you wouldn't let me give it back to you. Then you got mad because I joked about mudblood germs, and promised me that I'd never hear you use that word again. And I haven't."

"I gave up on that entire belief system a long time ago," he replied. "And you were the reason I did."

She cupped his cheek, her thumb tracing a gentle sweep across his stubbled skin. "You never told me that," she whispered.

He noticed the way her brown eyes began to glisten. "I'm glad I could now," he replied, leaning down to kiss her. It was the first time he kissed her, and it felt exactly as he had imagined. Her lips were soft, and she returned the kiss with a sense of love that he had never before felt. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," he murmured after pulling away.

"How long?" she asked.

He thought back to the first time he realized that Hermione Granger was someone special. "Sixth year," he told her. "I remember you would look at me when you thought I wasn't watching. You always seemed so concerned when you'd glance my way. I told myself that was because you were worried about me, that you knew I was up to something dangerous. Somehow, just the idea that someone cared, helped to get me through that year."

"It was more than concern," she confessed. "I was scared for you. There were rumors that you had become a Death Eater, and that Voldemort had given you an awful task as a way of punishing your father. We may not have ever been friends, but I could see how much you were hurting that year. I didn't want anything bad to happen to you."

"I'm here now," he assured her. "I don't know what's going on with me, but I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

Wiping her eyes, she smiled. "I'm glad," she replied.

The private, tender moment was soon interrupted as Ayla ran into the kitchen. "Gigi and Papa are here!" she announced. "Can I have a doggy?"

Draco chuckled and deferred to Hermione. "Absolutely not," she told the little girl despite her attempt to use her pout to get her way. "Remember the gerbil? You never fed it, never cleaned its cage, and you constantly put it in your brother's crib. No more pets."

"What prompted this?" Draco inquired, bending down to pick her up.

Ayla shrugged. "Papa has one and I want one too," she replied.

"Probably try to feed her brother to it," Hermione muttered as they left for the living room.

"I can't believe those dogs are still alive," he said quietly. "They were a hundred when I was little."

Ayla shook her head. "No, Daddy, new doggies," she told him. "Remember? Leo was so scared of them."

Draco nodded. "Right, yeah. I remember now," he said. "Sometimes big dogs can be scary."

The little girl in his arms beamed proudly. "I'm not afraid of them because I'm brave like Mummy," she replied.

"Yes, you are," he agreed, kissing her cheek.

Together, they entered the living room to find his parents already seated with Leo on his father's lap. The toddler smiled brightly and pointed to him. "That's my daddy," he announced, brown eyes locked on his father.

He squirmed on his grandfather's lap, and as Lucius let him wiggle to his feet, he replied, "Yes, that certainly is." He rose and moved toward his son, extending his hand. "So nice to see you again, Draco. You disappeared weeks ago. If it hadn't been for your wife, we never would have known that you were still alive."

"Sorry, Father," he mumbled.

Lucius took Ayla from his son's arms and set her on her feet, asking her to go to her grandmother. "Let's talk," he suggested. Reluctantly, Draco pried Leo's arms from his leg and followed his father to the upstairs study. He took a seat behind the mahogany desk and eyed the younger man. "So?"

Draco busied himself with reshelving Ayla's books. "So what?" he asked.

The older wizard cleared his throat impatiently. "I'd like to know what's going on here," he stated. "Seven months ago, you and Hermione were barely speaking. You were separated, you moved back to the Manor, and then one day we wake up, and you're not there. Anything you feel the need to clarify?"

Shrugging, he finished his task and took a seat across from the desk. "We worked things out," he replied succinctly. His father eyed him suspiciously; that one look letting him know that he didn't believe him. Draco rose from his seat, and made his way towards the door. "Look, I'm sorry that we haven't talked in a few weeks. It was irresponsible of me."

"Which seems to be your go-to excuse every time you do something to upset someone," Lucius interjected.

"It seems to me that you're the only one who's upset," Draco retorted, fighting to keep his temper under control. "Whatever I've done in the past, Hermione has forgiven me and my kids have forgiven me. Who else matters?"

"Whatever you've done?" his father demanded. "You have no idea how many times your wife came to me looking for you. Because you were lying drunk in a gutter somewhere while she raised your children. Your mother would come over in the middle of the night to watch your children while we searched every pub for you. Do not tell me that no one else matters."

Draco's shoulders sagged defeatedly. "I'm sorry, Father," he replied. "I just...this is my chance to have the life I've always wanted. I don't want to screw it up anymore than I already have."

Lucius rose from his seat. "Then don't."


	10. Chapter 9

We had some really terrifying sounding wind last night. I'm not a fan of anything that wakes me up, and less a fan of things that make me think my house is going to be blown away a la_ The Wizard of Oz_. So, yeah, it wasn't a good night.

* * *

Chapter 9  
Father and son returned quietly to the living room. Draco sat down beside Hermione, who was conversing with his mother. Leo crawled from her lap to his and smiled brightly at him. "Papa looks mad, Daddy," the little boy whispered.

Draco frowned when his wife's eyes settled on him and her conversation came to a halt. "Where's your sister?" he asked.

"She went up to her room to get a book," Hermione told him. "Will you come with me to put the food out?"

Setting Leo down on the sofa, he rose and followed Hermione to the kitchen. Silently, she pulled the roast from the oven and set it atop the stove. With a flick of her wand, it began to carve itself. When her focus was once again on Draco, she needed to say no words to get him to talk. "Did you and my father really find me passed out in a gutter?" he asked.

"We did," she confirmed as she picked up the pot of mashed potatoes. "Grab the roast, will you?"

"Why didn't you tell me that?" he asked, doing as she ordered.

She sighed and turned back to face him. "Haven't I told you enough horrible things?" she wondered. "Besides, that's a night I'd rather not relive."

He nodded. Over the past few weeks, he had come to better understand just what his future self had put her through. "I just didn't know how involved my parents were," he replied.

"They weren't at first," she told him. "I was ashamed to tell them about your behavior. Your father vehemently objected to our being together, and I thought that not being able to handle you would just further his belief that we never should have married. You were missing for two days. Leo was only a few months old and Ayla was sick. That's when I went to your parents, begged for help. Narcissa was mad at me for not telling them sooner. Your father stormed out muttering something about killing you. He came back a few minutes later, hugged me, and promised that he would help me find you."

"That's when you found me in the gutter?" he asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Hermione shook her head and his face fell. How many times had he put her through this? Why had she bothered to stay with him? Again, there were more questions he didn't want answered.

Removing her wand from her sleeve, she cast a warming charm on the food. "You were holed up, drunk out of your mind, at Blaise's," she told him. "Would you believe that I didn't even know where he lived? Best man at our wedding, and he never gave me his address. Thankfully, your father had it. He fired Blaise the next day."

Draco set his platter back down on the stove. "Yeah, but it didn't seem to help matters, did it," he muttered.

"No, it didn't," she agreed softly. "Come on, let's go eat."

He nodded, though his appetite was long gone. Exiting the kitchen, he followed Hermione to the dining room and placed the platter of pot roast in the center of the table. Narcissa had taken a seat beside Ayla, and Lucius was making his way to sit next to Leo. The little boy glanced at his father nervously. "Father, why don't you take the head of the table," Draco suggested.

"Daddy, why you don't call your daddy Daddy?" Leo asked.

He shrugged as he cut up his son's dinner. "I don't know, buddy. I just don't," he replied. He slid the plate over to Leo. "Eat up."

Narcissa cleared her throat. "It's nice to have the whole family together," she commented. "It's been too long. Hermione, you always put together a lovely meal when you have us over."

Hermione bowed her head politely, ready to offer her mother-in-law any recipe she may desire. Lucius's question dampened any hope of a peaceful meal. "A drink, Draco?" he asked. "I believe firewhiskey was always your favorite."

"Lucius," Narcissa admonished.

Draco held up a hand. "No, Mum, it's fine," he said. He turned to his father and smiled. "I'm fine with water," he told him as nicely as he could.

"Really?" Lucius inquired, his gray eyes narrowing.

"Well, my son told me I smelled funny, so I've given it up," Draco replied. He turned to Leo then, who ate quietly. "What do you think, buddy? Am I still stinky?"

The little leaned in closely and took a tentative sniff. "No, smell good," he declared, returning to his dinner.

Hermione and Narcissa fought to hide their chuckles behind their hands. Draco shot his wife a mirthful look, one eyebrow raised. "You should maybe start showering at night as well," Hermione teased. "There was...something wafting off of you when you came to bed last night. You didn't smell it?"

Draco shrugged. "I thought it was you," he remarked, taking a bite of his roast. "I figured I would be a gentleman and not mention it."

"That didn't go according to plan, did it," Hermione commented dryly, trying to hold back a smile.

"I take it things are going well between the two of you?" Narcissa asked.

The smile Hermione had tried so hard to hide was now at the forefront. "Really well," she replied. "It's been nice to have him home so much."

The older witch nodded. "I used to love that too," she said. "Especially when Draco was little. Lucius would travel for business, and he'd be gone for weeks at a time. I remember how excited Draco would get when his father returned. And I'll admit, I was a bit relieved too."

Draco snorted, earning stares from his dinner companions. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's just that I never realized how differently we remembered things."

"I don't think this is the time," Hermione told him in a whisper.

Pushing back his chair, Draco got to his feet. "Yeah, I think you're right," he agreed. "I'm not hungry."

All eyes were on him as he exited the dining room. Hermione placed her napkin beside her plate, ready to follow him, but it was Narcissa who stopped her. "Let him cool down before you try to talk to him," she suggested, seeming to recall the same night that Hermione was.

Hermione settled back into her seat. The last time his parents had come to dinner, Draco had fought with them, fought with her, thrown a lamp at the wall, and told her he wanted a separation. She wasn't sure she could go through that again, especially when he seemed so different.

"Mummy," Ayla asked, cutting her thoughts short. "Is Daddy gonna leave again?"

Tears glistened in Hermione's eyes as she considered her daughter's question. Only one answer came to mind, one she didn't dare say out loud.

I don't know.


	11. Chapter 10

Answers are coming! And to quote the great Forrest Gump, that's all I have to say about that. Also, did anyone catch the Super Bowl halftime show last night and have flashbacks to high school? It felt so good until I logged into Facebook and got a message about my 10 year reunion.

* * *

Chapter 10  
When the cleanup was done, the kids were in bed, and his parents were gone, Hermione retired to her bedroom. She found Draco seated on the floor at the foot of the bed, knees to his chest and staring blankly at the wall. Quietly, she sat down beside him, copying his position. "So," she said softly.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered. "I shouldn't have stormed out like that. It just felt like they were attacking me."

"Your mother wasn't," Hermione replied.

He nodded. "I know she wasn't," he stated. "I just remember my childhood much differently from the wonderful picture she tries to paint. The loving family who anxiously awaited the doting father's return from a business trip. It wasn't business he was doing. It was Voldemort's work. Him trying to find a way to bring the madman back. I remember one time when I was maybe a bit older than Ayla, he came home and I was so excited to see him. I had a glass of pumpkin juice in hand and it spilled. He grabbed the glass from my hand, threw it at a wall, and told me to clean it all up. Those are the kinds of memories I have."

She placed her hand on his knee and laid her head on his shoulder. "Your relationship with him hasn't improved much since then," she said sadly.

"And you wonder why I drank so much," he muttered. "All I ever heard from him was that I wasn't good enough, that I wasn't smart enough, that I would run his business into the ground. Getting drunk was the only thing I was good at."

"You were good at other things too," she murmured.

Draco scoffed and shook his head. "No, I wasn't," he muttered. "I hated my life. I hated that my parents conditioned me to hate. I hated that they never figured out a way to show me that they cared about me. Neither one of them ever said they love me. Did you know that?"

Hermione shook her head. "So, what? You drank because you thought it was all you had?" she wondered.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe," he mumbled. "I just...why did I do it after I married you? Or after the kids were born? This seems like the perfect life."

"Maybe it's not," she suggested. "Not for you. You worked a lot. Sometimes I thought that you saw your job as more important than we were. And I think maybe you were unhappy there."

Draco nodded. "My father was always hard on me," he told her. "On Blaise too. We both started working there right after the war, and for some reason we discovered that drinking made it a bit easier. Do you ever close your eyes and still see it? The bodies and the destruction and the chaos. I started drinking to escape that, and then to escape my father. Maybe I didn't know how to stop."

"You've stopped recently," she said. "And you're here now, and so attentive. The kids are so happy to have you home. I am too."

He offered her a gentle smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I've never felt like I had a family until now," he admitted. "I'm scared of losing it. I don't want to lose you and our children. It scares me to think that I could wake up tomorrow morning, and it'll all be gone."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "We're not going anywhere," Hermione promised. "This is your family, sweetheart. We're here, and that's not going to change."

Sighing, he let his head fall back against the bed. "But what if it did?" he wondered. "Whatever happened that day, I woke up seven years in the future. If that's even what happened. Maybe it's just a dream. What if none of this is real? Maybe that wouldn't be so terrible, if it weren't real. Means I didn't grow up this way."

They sat in silence as Hermione's heart broke for her husband. Whatever he thought had happened to him seemed to upset him more and more as the days went on. There had to be a solution, something they hadn't thought of yet. Talking to Blaise had been a bust, and there was no one else to turn to. No one else, she realized, but Draco.

"Could I see your memory of that day?" she asked.

Draco's spine straightened as he lifted his head. "What?"

"The day you were drinking in your office with Blaise. The day you say is the last thing you remember," she replied. "Can I see that memory?"

He wasn't entirely sure it was possible, but it was worth a try. Holding out his hand, he silently asked for her wand. Soon, a wisp of memory was extracted from his mind and placed in the nearest container. Hermione got to her feet and left the bedroom for the study. Carefully, she placed the memory down on the desk before retrieving the pensieve from the top of the bookshelf. She set it down and emptied the memory into the basin.

"Do you think we could go in together?" Draco asked. "Maybe I could help somehow."

Smiling, Hermione held out her hand to him. He quickly accepted it and stepped up to the pensieve with her. Taking a deep breath, he leaned down until the memory enveloped them. Their feet touched down on the carpeted floor, and Hermione let go of Draco's hand. "Your office is disgusting," she said, nose wrinkling at the putrid smell of alcohol.

"I remember this," he murmured, walking closer to the desk. _The Daily Prophet_ stared up at him, along with a moving photo of Hermione being harassed as she made her way to her Ministry office. Hermione moved to his side and frowned at the photo. "Do you ever regret it?" he asked.

"Breaking up with Ron?" she clarified. Draco nodded. "Not once."

"Plus, she's not my type," the memory Draco said.

Hermione turned to the man beside her and smirked. "Not your type?" she asked.

Draco shrugged. "Like I was really going to tell him," he replied. "He had a nasty habit of stealing my girlfriends."

"Does it make you feel better to know he never hit on me?" she asked.

He leaned down to kiss her cheek. "It does. Thanks," he replied. He opened his mouth to speak just as Blaise rose on wobbly legs from his chair. Neither spoke as they watched him move from Draco's desk to the bar cart.

"What's that in his hand?" Hermione whispered as Blaise removed a small vial of brown liquid from his blazer pocket. She inched closer for a better look and noticed that the contents of the vial were now in a glass of firewhiskey. One Blaise next deposited back in front of Draco.

Blaise took his seat once more. "We should toast," he suggested.

"To what?" Draco wondered.

Blaise held up his glass. "To...living the lives we want to lead," he stated.

Hermione turned to Draco with wide eyes. "I think I know what happened."


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11  
"You know what that was he put in my glass?" Draco asked as they pulled out of his memory.

Hermione shook her head. "Well, I don't know exactly what it was," she amended. "I have an idea though. George has a product, a daydream charm. I think I've seen him use that liquid when making them. What if Blaise used the same thing?"

Draco scoffed and took a seat behind the desk. "This doesn't feel like a dream," he muttered. "Most of it's been a nightmare."

Pursing her lips, she stood on the other side of the desk and crossed her arms. "Sorry to hear that," she replied.

He glanced at her with an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way," he assured her. "You and Ayla and Leo are the only good parts of it. The not remembering things, finding out things I did, how horrible I've been - that's been the nightmare. I don't want to be like this."

"Well, if none of it's real, then you have nothing to worry about," she said tersely. "You'll wake up soon enough, and this will all be over."

Turning on her heel, she left the study and Draco. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and sighed. Once again, he thought, he had mucked everything up. He wouldn't run from his mistakes this time, though. This was his life now, at least until the potion Blaise spiked his drink with wore off. If only he had some idea of how much longer it would last.

Deciding he could no longer hide out in the study, he went to the bedroom where Hermione was undressing. "The one thing I can't understand," she said, not bothering to turn to face him as she slipped a t-shirt over her head, "was why Blaise told you he didn't remember that day. Was he lying? Has he been drunk for so long that he really doesn't remember? And finally, why would he do it?"

Sighing, he took a seat on his side of the bed. "I don't know is the only answer I can come up with," he admitted. He turned around to look at her and watched as she made her way to the bathroom. Getting up, he followed her, standing in the doorway as she brushed her teeth. "I'm sorry about what I said. It wasn't my intention to upset you."

After rinsing off her toothbrush, she shut off the water and pushed past him. "I'm used to it," she muttered. He remained where he was as she climbed into bed. "We're not real anyway, right? So it shouldn't matter if my feelings are hurt. You'll wake up from this eventually."

"What if I don't want to?" he asked, finally nearing the bed. "I want a family, and I have one here. If your theory is right and what Blaise slipped into my drink is some sort of daydream potion, then this will all end. But that doesn't mean I can't make the most of it."

"Why is this your dream?" she wondered. "I mean, me. Back then, you hated me. You could have picked anyone. Why me?"

He sat down on the bed beside her and took her hand. "I hated seeing you with Weasley," he confessed. "Every time I saw the two of you in the paper, you looked so miserable. Maybe I was wrong, maybe it was just the photographers that were annoying you. But I blamed him for it. You deserved better."

"And you thought you were better than him?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "Hardly," he muttered. "I just wanted to see you happy, and I started to wonder if I could do that. If I could make you smile, or laugh, or just seem like the girl I remembered from school when she wasn't worried about Boy Wonder and his trusty sidekick. All that talk from Blaise about how dating you would be a nightmare and you being impossible, all I could think was 'I want to date her.' Maybe that's why my mind conjured you."

His words were beautiful and honest, and Hermione felt her eyes beginning to tear. She cleared her throat. "Knowing what you know now, that this is how your life could turn out, would you still want to date me?" she asked.

He nodded before she had even finished asking. "I also know what I have to do to fix this," he told her. "I want to be with you. I want this life. I want our kids. I'm done with the drinking and putting work first. Even if, when I wake up, you turn me down every time, I'm still done with all of that."

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his in a heated, passionate kiss. "I never stopped loving you," she whispered. "Everything that happened, everything you did, I still loved you. There were times when I wished I didn't. Maybe I could have walked away."

Her forehead rested against his and he saw her eyes close. "Thank you," he murmured. Her eyes opened, glancing at him with curiosity. "For not giving up on me."

"It's the way you would smile at me when you were sober," she told him. "You would get this twinkle in your eye that told me you were happy, even when we were doing absolutely nothing. We could be sitting by the fire with the kids, and you'd smile at me. And that was it. I was in love with you all over again."

She wound her arms around his neck and guided him down with her as she laid on her back. "What if, when I wake up, you don't really feel this way about me?" he wondered, pushing up on straightened arms to keep her at a distance.

"Bribing me with chocolate always works," she suggested.

He shook his head. "That might not be real though," he replied sadly.

She brought one hand to his face and stroked his cheek. "I know," she agreed. "But you're here now. Let's just try to make the best of whatever time we have left." Once more, she kissed him as her hands skimmed his back beneath his shirt.

Hermione had just managed to pull the shirt over his head when Draco stopped her. "I love you," he murmured. "Really, truly love you."

"I love you too," she replied.

He leaned down to kiss her, allowed her to continue undressing him, and made love to his wife for the first time. When they finished, she fell asleep in his arms. Draco watched her; the flutter of her closed eyelids, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I hope you can still mean it when I wake up," he whispered before closing his eyes.


	13. Chapter 12

I think I have about two chapters left for this story before it's done. We got an early dismissal today because of the impending blizzard, so I wanted to get this up before I leave. Stay safe if you live in the "snowpocalypse" area!

* * *

Chapter 12  
He awoke to a heavy feeling on his chest. Opening his eyes, he glanced down to find that Hermione had not moved during the night. It reminded him of the morning he woke up beside her, lost and confused with no idea where he was or what he was doing there. But now he knew, and now he didn't want the dream to end.

Beside him, Hermione began to stir. "Morning," she mumbled though her eyes remained closed. "Are the kids up yet?"

He listened for the sound of tiny voices or little running feet, but the house was quiet. "I don't think so," he replied.

She lifted her head and smiled at him. "You're still here," she commented. "According to the books I've read, you should have disappeared after our declaration of love."

"What books?" he asked, wondering why she had hidden answers from him.

Sitting up, she stretched her back. "Just those silly romance novels that you always teased me for reading," she replied, searching the floor for the shirt she had discarded the night before.

He found his pants and pulled them on. "How long do you think I have?" he wondered.

Hermione frowned as she pulled a shirt over her head. "It's difficult to say," she replied, reaching across the bed to pull him back down beside her. "You could wake up any minute now. It seemed, from your memory, that Blaise put a good amount of the potion in your drink."

It had been over a month since he awoke years in the future, and he had no desire to return to the past. There, he was lonely and miserable; surrounded by unloving parents and scheming friends. Here, he had the family he had dreamed of. He had Hermione. He was happy and loved. It didn't seem fair that none of it was real.

"Will you try to ask me out when you wake up from this?" she asked.

Draco shrugged. Knowing it was all in his head made him wary. There was no way the real Hermione would ever consent to a date with him. "I don't think you'd say yes," he replied.

"Don't let that stop you," she advised, kissing his bare shoulder. "Maybe I'll surprise you. Maybe you won't even have to bribe me. Just...take a chance."

The bedroom door opened and Ayla peered in hesitantly. "Can I sleep with you?" she asked, her voice small. "I had a bad dream."

Draco glanced at Hermione, silently asking if she was decent enough to have their child in bed with them. Hermione nodded and beckoned Ayla forward. With a little help from her father, Ayla was nestled between the two of them, her head on Draco's arm. "What did you dream about, baby?" he asked, using his other hand to brush the hair back from her face.

The little girl sniffled. "You went away," she said sadly. "It was like poof! You just disappeared and we couldn't find you."

He cradled her to his side. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "I love you too much to ever leave you."

Hermione slipped out of bed, promising to return after a shower. "Is Mama sad?" Ayla asked, her gray eyes beginning to close.

"I don't think she is," he replied.

She sighed softly. "That's good," she murmured. "I don't like it when Mummy's sad."

Draco nodded in agreement. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he whispered. Ten minutes later, Hermione emerged from the bathroom wearing a fluffy white robe while she towel dried her hair. She shot him a questioning look, and he told her what he had said to their daughter. "I just wish it were true."

Leaning over him, she pressed her lips to his. "Maybe one day it will be," she replied. "I'm gonna go check on Leo. Stay here with her." She was just out the door when she stopped and turned to look at him, a sad smile on her face. "I love you," she said.

Her returned her smile with a tight-lipped grin of his own. "I love you too." With Ayla asleep in his arms, his own exhaustion began to take over. Soon his eyes closed and his breathing evened out. He wasn't sure how long he slept, but when he awoke, it wasn't a pillow beneath his head.

He was back in his office, an empty glass near his head and a small puddle of drool beneath his cheek. Sitting up, he surveyed the room. "No," he whispered. "No, they can't be gone."

Getting to his feet, he hurried out of his office, took a left turn at the end of the hallway, and ran to Blaise's workspace. "Oh, hey, mate," Blaise greeted him. "Good nap? You have the imprint of a pen on your face."

"Give them back," Draco demanded.

"Who?" Blaise asked.

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, Draco yanked Blaise up until they were face to face. "I want them back," he stated through clenched teeth. "Whatever you did to me, do it again."

Blaise pried Draco's hands from his clothes and pushed him away. "Okay fine, so I put a potion in your drink," he explained. "I don't know who I think I can give you though."

Slowly, Draco backed away and ran back to his office. Shutting the door, he placed a locking charm on it for complete privacy. In his dream, Hermione had told him it was a Weasley product, a daydream charm. He could easily recreate the dream. He needed to go back. Gathering his belongings, he prepared himself to floo to Diagon Alley. But the newspaper stopped him.

Glancing down, he stared at the picture of Hermione Granger. Annoyance and insistence were written on her face as she fought through a barrage of photographers and reporters. The words she had spoken to him in his dream came back to him - _take a chance_. He _would_ take a chance, he decided.

Changing course, he floo'd to the Ministry of Magic and found himself in a lift to the seventh floor where the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was located. Her advice played like a mantra in his mind. Take a chance. Take a chance. Take a chance. But the nearer he got to her office, the louder his brain shouted at him to turn around. There were things he needed to change first, things that _had_ to change before he invited Hermione Granger into his life.

Turning on his heel, he went back to the Atrium and floo'd back to work. He went to his father's office, opened the door without bothering to knock, and stared at a surprised Lucius Malfoy.

"Father, I quit."


	14. Chapter 13

This morning I fell and ripped a hole in the knee of my pants. My neighbors who seem to have no concept of shoveling and salting owe me a new pair of pants.

* * *

Chapter 13  
It was weeks before he returned to the Ministry of Magic. He had quit his job, left the family manor for a smaller home, and began attending weekly meetings at St. Mungo's to aid in his sobriety. It had been three weeks since he had had a drink. A visit to Hermione would be his reward.

The lift dropped him off on the seventh floor, and he navigated his way through the hallways until he stood outside of her closed office door. His heart raced as he raised his fist to knock. The sound of blood rushing in his ears drowned out her initial "Come in". When he knocked again, the door opened, and an angry Hermione glared at him.

"I said you could come in," she stated. "There was no need to continue that incessant banging."

Turning, she went back to her desk and sat down. "I can still come in?" he asked dubiously.

Returning to her work, Hermione shrugged. "Why not? It's not like I have anything else going on," she muttered sarcastically.

He remained in the doorway as he said, "I can't tell if you're being facetious or if it really is okay that I come in."

Sighing, she pushed away her work and looked up at him. "No, Malfoy, come in," she replied in a softer tone. He did as he was told, and took a seat across from her desk. "So, um, what are you doing here? Rumor is you resigned from your father's company. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we don't have any open positions here."

"That's not why I came," he replied. "Um, I wanted to see you actually."

She shot him a dubious look. "Me?" she asked with a laughed. "Why could you possibly want to see me?"

He shrugged and looked down at his shoes. "You've been in the paper a lot," he commented. Hermione nodded as a sour frown crossed her face. "And you've looked so unhappy every time. Can't say I blame you. It's a pain in the arse to be followed everywhere."

"They've been ignoring you lately," she pointed out.

"I had to get clever. Couldn't very well let them know I'm going to a sobriety support group," he mumbled, knowing how well his drunken antics had been documented.

Surprised, Hermione leaned forward. "You decided to give up drinking?" she asked. "That's...I'm proud of you, Malfoy. It's good that you're getting help."

He nodded sheepishly. "I don't want to wake up in seven years and find out that I'm still a lousy drunk who abuses his family," he said softly.

Hermione's brows knitted. "Seven...that seems specific," she commented.

He settled back in his seat. "I thought seven was supposed to be a lucky number," he replied, smiling at her. "Or is that thirteen? I never get them straight."

"I think seven is lucky," she said with a laugh.

Getting to his feet, he walked over to the door. "It was good to hear you laugh again," he told her. "I should get going. You seem busy. Sorry I interrupted your day."

Glancing back once he opened the door, he noticed the look of pure confusion on her face. She said nothing until he stepped into the hallway. "Wait, that's it?" she wondered. He moved back to stand in the doorway. "We haven't spoken to each other since we left Hogwarts. Five years later, you show up at my office to tell me you quit drinking, and then you just leave. Why, Malfoy?"

He smirked. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied.

"Try me," she said, meeting him at the door.

Could he tell her about the dream? There was no way she would react favorably. She would either think him delusional, or she would get mad that he had wasted her time. "I just wondered if you could still smile," he finally said. "I'm glad to see I was right. Have a good day, Hermione."

He tried to walk away, but she grabbed him by the shirtsleeve. "I still smile," she informed him, though the frown she wore did little for her credibility.

"Just haven't had much of a reason to lately?" he guessed. She nodded and let go of him. "I hope you do again someday. You're pretty when you smile."

He walked away as her assistant, Kate, approached. "Was Draco Malfoy just flirting with you?" she inquired.

Hermione shook her head and stepped back into her office. "No, I honestly don't think he was," she replied, settling herself back down behind her desk. "He was acting strange though. I can't for the life of me understand it. He said I was pretty."

"Think he knows about you and Ron?" the blonde wondered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows about Ron and me," she replied. "Do you think he's up to something?"

Kate shrugged. "I don't know, but Draco Malfoy seems like the perfect rebound guy," she said. "I'd give him a shot, if I were you."

Draco came by once a week for a month. It was always Wednesdays just before noon. He claimed he had time to kill before his sobriety meetings. He brought lunch each time and they ate together in her office. At first she seemed hesitant to spend time alone with him, but he made her feel comfortable. He made her smile and laugh. He made her feel like she had a friend.

The fourth Wednesday, he showed up with a box of dark chocolates. "My favorite," she said with a smile as he handed them to her. "How did you know?"

"It came to me in a dream," he told her as he took the guest chair across from her.

"You didn't have to do this," she said as he unpacked his takeaway container of fish and chips. "I appreciate it, the lunches and the candy, but I guess I'm just confused as to why you're doing it."

He closed the container and placed it on the desk. Silence passed between them for several moments before he got to his feet. "I thought we could be friends," he mumbled. "I guess I kind of thought we were starting to become friends."

"I think we are too," she admitted. "I just don't understand why you'd want to be friends with me."

Sighing, he sat back down. "I don't have many friends," he told her. "I don't think I actually have any right now. Blaise was the only one I had left, and giving up on my old life meant cutting off contact with him too. I remember when we were in school, sixth year when You Know Who wanted me to kill Dumbledore, I wished that just once you would look at me and understand what I was going through. I wished I had just one friend like you. You stuck by Potter and Weasley through everything. I wanted that too."

Rising from her seat, she rounded the desk and hugged him. "I was scared for you that year," she confessed. "So afraid that he would hurt or kill you, and I know you didn't deserve that."

His arms wound loosely around her waist. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear.

"I'm hungry," she said awkwardly. Pulling away, she returned to her chair and tucked into her lunch. "Um, do you think you might be hungry Friday night?"

Smiling, he reached for his food. "Yeah, Hermione, I think I might be."


	15. Epilogue

The Epilogue is short, but it's something! Thanks for reading and liking and reviewing. I always appreciate it!

* * *

Epilogue  
"What made you want to marry me?" It was a question Hermione had asked every year since he proposed, but Draco swore he wouldn't tell her the real reason until their tenth anniversary.

They laid in bed the morning of their anniversary when she asked. Draco smiled and kissed her. It was finally time to tell her. "Do you remember the first time I came to see you?" he asked. "I told you I quit drinking, and then rambled on and on about how I was so happy to see you smile?"

"You didn't ramble," she interjected.

"I woke up from a dream, a dream about you," he continued. He explained it all to her - from the day he woke up with no memory of seven years of his life to their last morning together. "Blaise slipped a potion into my drink, and I saw a life with you. It was bad. I drank too much, worked too much, upset you too much. I fell in love with you in that dream, but I knew something had to change. _I_ had to change."

She stroked his cheek. "And you have," she replied.

"And I got to be with you," he said. "I got Ayla and Leo. I can honestly say that I've never been happier."

"So, you really pursued me because of a dream?" she asked. "What made you so sure that I'd go along with it all?"

He shrugged and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "I didn't," he admitted. "I almost gave up a few times. Of course, you asked me out first, so that boosted my confidence a bit. I was terrified when I proposed to you though. That dream kept playing through my mind. I could turn out just like that, be just as horrible. And then I remembered what you said to me before I woke up. You told me to take a chance."

Hermione pressed her lips to his. "I'm glad you did," she told him.

"The strangest part of that dream was Leo, though," he shared. "He knew I wasn't really me. And yet he didn't speak to anyone but me."

She giggled. "That is strange. That boy does not stop talking," she replied. "Neither of them do. No idea where they could have gotten that from."

He laughed, ready to tease her for her know-it-all, have an answer for everything ways, when the bedroom door opened. Draco turned to glance behind him and grinned when he saw his children. "Get in here," he said to them. Seven year old Ayla, with flying dark blonde curls and expressive gray eyes, dashed ahead of her brother and climbed up on the bed. Leo was more reserved, taking his time crossing the room. When he finally reached the bed, Draco ruffled his brown locks and helped him up. The youngest Malfoys settled in the middle of the bed between their parents.

"Did you think, ten years ago, that this is how you'd be spending your anniversary?" Hermione asked, wrapping her arms around her son.

Draco fingered one of Ayla's curls and smiled. "I hoped so," he replied. "This, the four of us, is what I dreamed about. It's exactly what I wanted."

Hermione shifting, trying to hide a smile. "And what if I told you that in nine months, give or take, there will be five of us?" she wondered.

Ayla groaned, but Draco ignored her. "Really?" he asked, finding it hard to contain his excitement. "We're having another baby?"

She nodded. "And your parents are watching the kids today so we can have some alone time," she added.

"Are you sure this isn't a dream?" he joked.

She sat up and leaned over the kids. "It's real," she promised.

The End.


End file.
